


You are not the only one watching the world

by reconditarmonia



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Canon Era, Crossdressing, Espionage, Female Friendship, Gen, Genderswap, Monstrous Regiment AU, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/pseuds/reconditarmonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and the other Friends of the ABC carry out an operation to trade sensitive information with a wealthy society woman sympathetic to their cause. Also, they are all women, except Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are not the only one watching the world

With six years' habit, the morning routine is second nature by now. Every article of her dress has been carefully calculated to produce the maximum effect (she enjoys the irony, as she is not normally the sort of girl to calculate the effect of her dress): the glasses that she does not need but that draw focus from the line of her jaw, hair swept off her forehead; the patterned waistcoat that conceals her shape; the frock-coat fashionably cinched at the waist and padded at the chest that gives the impression that the feminine figure is only tailor's artifice, with its flared skirts that conceal her hips and its broader shoulders. ("Fifteen years ago," Courfeyrac had said, "we'd never have got away with it" -- M. Courfeyrac who in casting off her particle had cast off three other letters as well.) She never thinks it convincing, but most people do not look very closely and they see what they expect to see: M. Combeferre, soft-spoken and brilliant, who loves progress in science and in all forms of thought.

Even so, it is easier on days, like today, when she isn't working in the hospital; shirtsleeves and apron are a riskier costume for her, and as she cannot let the danger of being found out distract her from surgery or diagnosis, she worries that she will slip. Today she writes. Leaving home with her notes, she works over breakfast and lunch, and rewards herself in the afternoon with a public lecture by Champollion. The evening is work again, but of a different sort.

They meet in Courfeyrac's rooms, their usual cafés and wineshops being unsuited for the preparations that need to be made. Enjolras is already there when she arrives, and opens the door at her knock; Courfeyrac rises too, from where they have evidently been quietly reviewing tonight's plan. The dress and underclothing are laid out on the bed; the invitation, from a forger several of them have reason to trust, on the night-table.

"Everything's ready," says Enjolras; "we were waiting for you. Shall we do this tonight?"

Waiting for the go-ahead from her. "Yes -- let's get started."

Enjolras unbuttons his coat and waistcoat and lays them aside on a chair, then unselfconsciously takes off his cravat, shirt, trousers. Grantaire would avert her eyes. For a few moments, they focus; Combeferre wraps the corset around his chest and laces it carefully, bracing with a hand on his lower back to pull tight at the end and remarking when she's tied it off, "There -- the perfect dandy." Enjolras laughs, and when he has the other underclothes on, Combeferre helps him into the dress, scarlet red silk that does not suit him, adjusts it over his shoulders, and by the light of the oil lamp fastens the hooks up the back one by one from waist to scapulae.

Already dressed for the night in evening wear, Courfeyrac is suppressing a laugh that Combeferre knows is amusement and relief at the reversal; on learning that their prospective contact would be at tonight's ball, it being obvious that two could not go as men Courfeyrac had feared having to take the woman's part while Prouvaire had outright refused; the hostess knew her, as Jeanne. Enjolras, with his girlish face and figure, and the only other leader in the society to have moved in those social circles, had volunteered, leaving Courfeyrac to her habitual trousers. The laugh breaks through as Enjolras stretches his arms, testing the fit of the dress, which belongs ostensibly to a wealthy mistress of Bahorel's but in actuality to Bahorel. "What's that, Courfeyrac?" asks Enjolras.

"Oh! I'm thinking of the compliment Lesgle paid me on my fine suit; he said I'd certainly seduce some noblewoman." A lie, though Lesgle had indeed made the remark; rather than making Courfeyrac laugh either in the hearing or the remembering, it had implied that Courfeyrac's disguise as a rather handsome man had seduction under false pretenses as a goal, and consequently earned Lesgle a sharp look and a retort on her own romantic failures delivered with steel beneath the humor. She looks in the mirror and adjusts her boutonnière, adding, "I should need a tricolor cockade, instead of this flower, to seduce Madame de Sainval."

Enjolras combs out his hair and Combeferre starts to pin it; it already curls enough not to need any help from her fingers or from tools that they don't have. Quite as much research through observation and fashion magazines was needed as if she had really been a man, as she never cared enough to style her own hair this way. He stands when Combeferre is finished and she looks at him consideringly. It's enough. She cannot help but see him as the man she knows, but the ball guests will see the lady whose name is on the invitation; perhaps the same would be true if he were to learn that she is a woman, when she decides to tell him.

* * *

They split up some distance away from the house in the Faubourg St.-Germain where the ball is being held: Courfeyrac and Enjolras unobtrusively join the group of guests that have already left their carriages, while Combeferre makes a long circuit of the house and surrounding area, checking that the others are in place. Bahorel is stationed near the house and Combeferre and Joly are to wait in the park nearby, as safeguards should their agents need to escape. Combeferre catches Bahorel's eye as she loiters out of sight of the guests and servants. She is wearing a plainer waistcoat than is her wont, light on her feet and lacing her fingers together to stretch; she is ready for a fight, Combeferre sees, but the kind where she might have to knock out a few men and get away without being remembered, not the kind she likes.

She and Joly arrive at their predetermined spot at the same time, and Joly sweeps off her hat and bows elegantly. "You never miss the chance to be à la mode, Julie," Combeferre greets her, coupling the feminine name with the masculine gesture. Joly grins in response and shakes her offered hand. Theirs is a different sort of intimacy than Combeferre's with Courfeyrac or with Enjolras, or Joly's with Lesgle; they had shared a lecture hall, Joly in her first year and still learning to answer to a false surname that she'd stammered out to a forger in the Midi when her given name was all that came to mind, and Combeferre already a few years in and quick to notice a girl trying too hard to be a man. She had taken Joly aside after class and invited her to dinner, as an older student to a younger, where she had explained that in her experience, the secret lay not in being noticed for one's manliness but in not being noticed at all.

Joly, typically, ignored this advice and became brilliant, which Combeferre had to admit was an effective crypsis, though that has not stopped her from gently chiding Joly on occasions like this. "Remember, we are the reserves," she continues as they sit on a bench, each turned to keep an eye on the house. "If anything should go wrong -- well! We'd better be ready."

"Indeed," says Joly. "I shall keep my coat buttoned and my hat on, and be ready to run in an instant. You'll see I've even left my cane at home."

"Good," Combeferre answers, and thinking she may have been too strict, "you would not cut half the distinctive figure you do, were you to lose it in running or fighting."

They settle in to wait, half an eye and ear on the house, which emits a steady low buzz of talk. Combeferre inquires after Joly's progress in her classes (mediocre), on whether or not she has begun to think about what she will write a thesis on (yes, but as she is likely to die of a disease or in a riot before passing her exams, irrelevant). Sounding rehearsed, as though she has said it before to a professor, Joly explains: "It isn't that I'm not serious about studying medicine. Certainly I am. I read all the latest," a habit she picked up from Combeferre, "know the subjects, have ideas--" At a louder noise from the house, some kind of distant shout, she jumps up and takes a few steps forward, with Combeferre alongside her. It dies away after a moment; evidently a toast or cheer, and not discovery of their plot. Still, Combeferre walks quickly up to within hand signaling distance of Bahorel, who indicates that all is well, before rejoining Joly.

As Combeferre settles back in slowly, Joly adds as an afterthought, "I suppose it isn't that I'm not serious about the revolution either." She smiles at Combeferre. "But -- I have trouble with the theoretical, the abstract. I do better in dissection, and will do better still in clinics, if I should ever reach them."

"Or in other practicalities -- keeping watch on a society infiltration." Combeferre returns the smile a little distracted. It is plain that they will know if anything happens inside to put Courfeyrac and Enjolras in danger, and be in place to help them get away and clear the area of Friends of the ABC, but she is still preoccupied with the risks of this plan she had a hand in, and closer friends with the two inside than Joly is. "But I did not mean to digress. You have a scientific mind, Julie, and a kind heart that many who become doctors lack. You are sure to succeed. If you think of it in this way--" and they continue talking quietly about the best way to learn the lectures and prepare for the exams. Combeferre appreciates the chance to catch up with Joly on her work; no longer in class together, they have a day-to-day relationship that is ultimately social and political, and she likes to retain her role of mentor. Even now, when neither of them can give their undivided attention to the other, it is more than either has heard of the other's writing and class work in some weeks. This takes up their time until they see Bahorel coming towards them, and start up to meet her in case there is any trouble; but she is there to tell them that the ball is over, and the guests are going home.

* * *

Joly and Bahorel head off together towards their respective homes, while Combeferre meets Courfeyrac and Enjolras several streets away. The two of them begin reporting as they go, nothing to the purpose of the mission, but who was there, who talked to whom, social patter that would not be out of place for a young married couple falling in with a friend as they (inexplicably) walked home from a ball, but that will be useful as context for the real report when they arrive back at Courfeyrac’s flat.

Enjolras sits in his shirtsleeves after changing out of the dress, and Courfeyrac takes off her coat, trusting to the low light and Enjolras’s focus on the mission. “We spoke with Madame de Sainval,” says Enjolras, “after her husband had gone off. She would like to help us and is in a position to do so, of course -- what we already knew from our previous investigations. Her husband meets regularly with members of the Cabinet and is as prone to disclosing political secrets in his private rooms as he is to spreading sexual gossip at times when he should be doing more important work. She agreed that direct communication with us would be impossible, but did not think we could reliably pass messages through an intermediary, as she does not trust the servants and tradesmen, who are directed by her husband.”

Courfeyrac adds, “Enjolras is neglecting to mention that she complimented his dress, but suggested better colors. I believe he thought she was flirting and didn’t know what to do.” Combeferre takes it as Courfeyrac meant it; it’s not a distraction from the report, but another piece of information. If they were too conspicuous, those circles might be off-limits for this sort of disguise again, ruling out another avenue of communication. Courfeyrac continues, “Madame has given us -- not in writing, of course -- a list of some places she visits in the course of her weekly routine, so that we can pass messages back and forth. We’ll have to make them look like something different, in case they’re found by someone else, but Prouvaire can write secret love letters as well as anyone.”

“What about the messages from her?” Combeferre asks. “A dead drop is very well, and will protect _us_ , but it will not protect her if the secrets are found and can be traced to her or to her husband.”

“She gave us a code, no doubt out of some novel. Here.” Enjolras pulls over a pen and paper and sketches out the form a secret message would take in an ordinary letter. “She described it at the ball, but as Courfeyrac said, we couldn’t write anything down. Does this look like something we can use?”

Combeferre looks it over. “Yes -- and it is original, from what I can tell,” she borrows the pen and circles interesting features, “so even if someone realizes there is a hidden message, it will be hard to decipher. Let’s plan to test it out this week.”

They spend a little time considering a schedule of visits to the drop before parting for the night. Courfeyrac walks them both down to the street, saying quietly to Combeferre, “Madame did not flirt with me,” before seeing them off.

Back at home, Combeferre considers this; she and Courfeyrac have known each other for long enough that, as before, she can extrapolate. First, from the facts she knew already. When Madame de Sainval was confronted by a male subversive who had dressed as a woman in order to meet with her, his female companion’s male disguise cannot but have been obvious to her. There was no reason for both to disguise when none might have disguised; therefore, the woman’s true identity was unknown to the man.

Yet Courfeyrac's new piece of information is not only about what their contact knew -- but about how she acted. Madame de Sainval’s preference for women is known, and she not only flirted with Enjolras to put others off the trail, but kept Courfeyrac’s secret from Enjolras. It hits Combeferre, not for the first time, that however many secrets they know about the government, however many they keep about their own political activities, having secrets from each other as well compromises their trust in one another and makes their work very complicated.

**Author's Note:**

> \--Title from Terry Pratchett's _Monstrous Regiment_ , fitting since I've been referring to this fic for the entire time as the Monstrous Regiment AU.  
> \--Inspired by a number of similar kinkmeme prompts in which all of the Amis de l'ABC are women disguised as men; the first such prompt I saw specified that Enjolras didn't realize because he doesn't really know what a woman is. While it was a crack prompt, I tried to write it seriously.  
> \--I have unfortunately largely fallen out of Les Mis fandom in the past few months, at least for the time being, and so I can't promise any kind of regular updates to this. I have notes for who the other Amis are in this world, and a few half-formed plot points, but I wanted to put this much up here rather than letting it languish forever while I moved on.  
> \--thanks to pilferingapples for beta-reading, and to mmebahorel for [this post](http://corinthe.livejournal.com/9991.html) about medical school.


End file.
